The Budget
by OpportuneMoment
Summary: What would happen if the US Government were really to withdraw funding from Dr. Theodore Morris' project?


THE BUDGET  
  
Author: Gillian Slater  
  
E-mail: LeoricGS@aol.com  
  
Rating: PG -13  
  
Teaser: What would happen if the US Government were really to withdraw funding to Dr. Theodore Morris' project?  
  
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, they are the property of the show's creators, and I'm borrowing them for my own sinister purposes...  
  
Michael paced around the pool anxiously as he waited for the doctor's return. On his nineteenth circuit in as many minutes, he looked again towards the doorway and stopped as he saw Morris enter. Instantly, Michael registered the look of stunned disbelief mixed with grief which lingered on the doctor's dark features and his stomach clenched nervously.  
  
"Doc'?" He inquired tentatively. Morris did not look up from his troubled thoughts, walking directly towards Michael without seeming to notice his presence. When he was within about two strides he shook his head vigorously as if to wake himself and faced his subject, making grave eye contact.  
  
"Well, it seems the higher powers have spoken." He said seriously.  
  
"So, you've spent the last two hours communing with God? Come on, doc', cut the cryptic. What's the what?" Morris' pained expression spoke volumes as he put one hand gently on Michael's shoulder.  
  
"The 'what' is that it's over. We're finished. Gone. Axed."  
  
"They cut the funding?! For real?"  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"Why?! I mean, I know I'm a little wayward sometimes, but I'm only human, or at least, only synthetic human..."  
  
"It's not all your fault, Mr. Wiseman."  
  
"They're blaming you, too? But you've been the hardest slave-driver any lab-rat could ever ask for! You've pushed and nagged and flogged..."  
  
"Thank you." Morris said with a touch of sarcasm, but his tone was softly grateful for the lopsided compliment.  
  
"So... what happens now, I mean, are you just gonna up and leave, get reassigned to some other Dr. Frankenstein gig?" Morris took a deep breath.  
  
"Well, I've been ordered to clear out the facility, remove all the cameras, sell the equipment and then the building." He carefully avoided the most difficult subject, but Michael came directly to it without further preliminaries.  
  
"And what happens to me? If they can't afford to 'keep' me anymore, then I'm scot free, right? The project's ended, time's served - I can go home to Lisa and Heather..." but his tone was less than optimistic as he looked questioningly at the doctor.  
  
"For all that the experiment is over, everything we did will have to remain a profound secret. Officially, it didn't happen - you never existed. All traces of our work are to be erased." He looked down at his feet, avoiding Michael's eyes.  
  
"So that's it, then, is it?" He demanded hotly, "You're just going to shoot me? 'Thanks so much for playing guinea-pig and working yourself half to death for us, now your number's up'?" He spread his arms widely, making himself an easy target and bitterly invited his fate, "Well, come on, doc', make it quick, huh? I might have another incarnation to get to."  
  
"Mr. Wiseman..." Morris said in a defeated voice, "You're right, they want you destroyed, but... there were certain members of the Board who called into question my ability to terminate you. It was suggested I might be too close, that I might have some lingering respect and fondness for the life I created, that I might simply defy orders and let you go."  
  
"And would you?"  
  
There was a brief silence, then, as regret moved through Morris' eyes and for the first time his sincerity was clearly visible to Michael. "I would." He breathed, "If it were up to me, you know I would... but I've been overruled. It's out of my hands now. They're sending a team to take care of it. It'll be painless. You'll be given a lethal injection."  
  
"When?" Michael asked grimly.  
  
"First thing tomorrow morning. The, ahh, directors want to establish a satellite link-up to the house cameras, to watch and make sure that it's actually carried out." Morris' tone was full of disgust at the heartlessness of his superiors. Michael's keen mind sprang into action, then, and he began to pace once more, thinking out loud.  
  
"Right... it's after eight by now, so that leaves us a little under ten hours to get away. How long will it take you to get this out?" He tapped the bridge of his nose, where the tracking device was lodged beneath his skin.  
  
"Get it out?" Morris echoed.  
  
"Yeah, you know..." he made a simulated scissors movement with his fingers, "Snip, snip. Because we're not going to get far on the run if all the executioners have to do is follow my nose!"  
  
"Mr. Wiseman, there's two things about that sentence I just don't get. One - 'on the run' and Two - 'we'."  
  
"Look doc', you may have built this thing just for kicks," He tapped his chest, "But it's where I live now, and I'd like to keep it. You think I'm gonna sit idly by while a bunch of white-coats come and take away my second chance at life? No way! I'm outta here, and you're coming with me." Morris looked startled, and a little touched.  
  
"Oh, don't go all mushy on me, doc'. Fact is, much as I'd love to beat on you for feeding me rabbit food and working me till I drop, you know as well as I do that if they turn up here tomorrow and find me gone, you'll be on the end of the needle. So don't waste time thanking me for my loyalty, just help me lose the tracer, huh?"  
  
Morris swallowed hard. "This is... not a simple snip job Mr. Wiseman, it's a surgical procedure, for which I don't have any implements, anaesthesia..."  
  
"So use a pen knife, I don't care! In case you've forgotten we don't have a lot of time."  
  
As if on cue, the door burst open and the room was quickly flooded with black-clad, machine-gun-toting soldiers, followed by the inevitable white-coated scientists. Morris and Michael whirled round to see the soldiers surround them on all sides.  
  
"What's going on here?!" Morris demanded, "I was told it'd be tomorrow..."  
  
"There's been a change of plan, Dr. Morris," one of the scientists informed them, "We've been ordered to terminate the project now."  
  
"And I'm afraid you'll have to keep out of the way, sir." A soldier said to the confused and outraged doctor, hooking a handcuff around his wrist and dragging him over to a pipe on the wall where he was quickly attached. Michael spun around, trying to decide which of the soldiers to punch out first, when a gun barrel was placed directly to his temple.  
  
"We're supposed to administer a lethal injection, but if you want to make trouble I'm sure a bullet in the head will suffice, and it would even leave the body intact for later use."  
  
Michael put up his hands in surrender, only to find them promptly seized and his legs likewise as four hefty soldiers grabbed a limb each and two more rushed in to take his middle. He struggled wildly, bucking to try and dislodge the soldiers' hold on him, but he was held fast and dragged to the far side of the swimming pool and past the glass dividing wall, where a makeshift medical table had been erected. Dr. Morris looked on in anguish as Michael was forced down onto the table and anchored there, his arm pinned and bared to the scientist beside him who was readying the injection.  
  
"You can't do this to me!" Michael yelled frantically, "I'm a living human being! I'm not disposable!" He set his jaw and yanked his shoulder upwards with such force that the soldier who held him was thrown off. With one arm freed, he was already a formidable opponent as he punched out two of the other stocky men, sending them flying in opposite directions. As more rushed in to take up their colleagues' positions, Michael rolled sideways off the table, landed gracefully on his feet and dashed away, keeping low to the ground.  
  
He had barely gone four strides when his feet were grabbed from behind and yanked out from under him. His arms went out instinctively to break his fall, but still he landed hard, face down on the floor and was promptly dragged backwards towards the table.  
  
"I have a wife and daughter!" He pleaded desperately, clawing ineffectually at the smooth wooden floor, "Let me see my wife and daughter one more time...!" His appeals to their humanity fell on deaf ears as he was hoisted up onto his back, squirming violently as he was pinned down once more. One of the guards leaned down to his face and spoke to Michael in a harsh, low tone.  
  
"Your wife and daughter are a potential threat to the lasting secrecy of this ex-project. They're scheduled to be terminated next." Michael's face hardened and his stare went cold.  
  
"Right then," Michael's tone was chilling and deadly calculating, "Let's try that again, huh? Subject escape Take Two..." He wrenched a foot free this time and flailed it out to one side, catching one man full in the face and then another in the throat. The second went down spluttering and took the first with him in his fall. Again, Michael won free of the heavy-handed grasps from all sides by twisting and lashing out at strategic points - three more men fell away clutching their bruised windpipes and gasping for air. He sprang athletically from his back to a squatting stance on top of the table and continued to fend off attacks from his elevated position.   
  
Briefly he saw an opportunity when all his assailants were momentarily out of reach of him and seized it, diving powerfully from the table and straight through the glass divider, sending shards flying everywhere. Just as he had calculated, the dive took him straight into the swimming pool, the momentum carrying him right to the bottom. Michael heard muted shots ring out above him, and bullets followed him into the pool, narrowly missing him as he knifed effortlessly through the water.  
  
The pool was surrounded quickly by the few remaining uninjured guards all aiming their guns with some difficulty at their rapidly moving target. Michael broke the surface with one arm only, reaching up to grab one of the soldiers by the leg and drag him down underwater, forcing him to the very bottom and standing on him. As the struggling soldier's air gave out, Michael shot back to the surface, leaped out of the pool and ran to where Dr. Morris was handcuffed. He snapped the chain as easily as if it were made of paper and instructed the doctor in an imperative tone to follow him.  
  
As both whirled round to make their escape, they were confronted by the sight of seven men in two-thousand-dollar suits strolling in through the doorway, gesturing mildly for the soldiers to desist their actions. The businessman in front began a slow, deliberate applause which was quickly taken up by the other 'suits'.  
  
"Extraordinary. Magnificent." The man smiled widely at the stunned figures of Michael and Morris.  
  
"Sir...?" Morris couldn't even word the question.  
  
"I think it's safe to say this project is on the right track."  
  
"Hey, hey, hey!" Michael stepped forward raising his hands impatiently for quiet, "Would someone please tell me what in hell is happening here?!"  
  
"It's quite simple, Mr. Wiseman," The lead man said, annunciating slowly as though explaining something to a child, "We were in some doubt as to whether or not to terminate this project's funding. Now, there's no doubt."  
  
"Sir, I thought... wasn't the meeting we just had the funding review?"  
  
"No, doctor. That was the decoy review. The real test has just taken place, and I must say you discharged yourselves admirably, both of you."  
  
"We did?" Morris and Michael said in perfect unison.  
  
"Indeed. You, doctor, have demonstrated a willingness to go above and beyond, and even despite the call of duty, to put your career and even your life on the line for the sake of this project. It's clear to us that you are the best man for this job. The prototype couldn't have a better role-model. And Mr. Wiseman..." he looked Michael's breathless, dripping form up and down in satisfied approval, "Despite all our worst fears that you can never be properly trained to be the master combatant we require, you've proven yourself to be an extremely potent and resourceful warrior, given the right... motivation." He waved a hand to indicate the unconscious guards and scientists strewn all around the room. There were only two of the black-clad men left standing, now unarmed, one of whom was decidedly unsteady.  
  
Michael looked around, noticing the human devastation he'd caused for the first time and felt his face succumb slightly to an expression of smug triumph. The other suit-clad men smiled in kind and gave silent, nodding congratulations to their prototype.  
  
"So... am I to take it that you fellas are going to be more forthcoming with the cash?"  
  
"Well, that's to be discussed with Dr. Morris in private, but suffice it to say that your role in the federal government's top secret division is secure, Mr. Wiseman."  
  
"Thank you, sirs." Morris beamed. The directors gave brief dismissive nods to the two men and turned to leave, but were interrupted by Michael again, whose expression had reverted somewhat to one of annoyance.  
  
"Can I make a small suggestion?" His feigned tone of supplication drew smiles of amusement from the group.  
  
"But of course."  
  
"Well, if this is the result when you only pretend to take away our funding," He waved a hand around the room indicatively, "I'd suggest you never seriously consider it."  
  
"Mr. Wiseman, Doctor Morris... we'll see you next year." They collectively headed out of the facility leaving their carefully orchestrated scene of chaos behind them.   
  
FIN 


End file.
